Selfless
by S.J. Kohl
Summary: Zack can't get Spike to wake up. Zack, Cloud.


Selfless  
By S.J. Kohl

Rating: PG-13  
Summary: Spike won't get up.   
Disclaimer: Not my Verse.

_Come on, Spike. _Zack could feel Cloud near him, could feel Cloud's shattered, shallow breaths low on the hillside. But Cloud wasn't moving, and Zack could feel himself slipping further and further away. He was dead, he knew. He'd been dead for several long minutes already, and he could feel the Lifestream eating away at him, shredding what little life still flowed through his veins.

But he couldn't go yet. Spike was dying. He knew that now. In truth, he'd known that long before he'd finally found a way to break them out of that godforsaken mansion. He just hadn't wanted to see it, but now… Now he had no choice. Cloud _wanted _to die.

But Zack would _not _let that happen. Spike might not think life was so hot right now; he might think he'd rather die than go on, but he was wrong. Later—maybe weeks, maybe years, it didn't matter—sometime later he'd want to live, and Zack would make damn sure his little buddy was able to make it through to see those days. Somehow. _Wake up, Spike. Come on, dammit, wake up! The bastards could come back any second, Cloud. You've got to get the HELL out of here! _

But Cloud didn't move.

Zack would have cried if he could have. They were slipping apart. They'd been moving together for years, but now he was falling one way and Cloud was falling the other. And if he didn't do something quick, they were both going to die today. With a growl of frustrated anger, Zack reached for the mako he could feel swimming in his blood—already going cold—and threw all the strength he had left at Cloud. _Wake UP! _

The mako energy—from his treatments and from the Lifestream that was stripping him from the planet inch by agonizing inch—slammed into Cloud, and Spike's body jerked. A low moan. The slight lift of a blond head. Zack could have laughed for sheer relief. _It's not over yet, Spiky. _Carefully, he opened himself to the Lifestream, harnessing its energy even as he struggled against the wild maelstrom of its strength. _Not yet. _He couldn't go yet.

He wrapped Cloud in Life, feeding bits and shreds of himself into the boy's mind through Jenova's cells, knowing it was Cloud's only chance at surviving this late in the game. Zack shoved his sorrow and his guilt to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do him any good now. He'd failed Spike once, but not this time. This time he would give Cloud the only thing he had left—his self. He didn't need it anymore anyway.

Slowly, sense began to return to Cloud's eyes. He began to crawl, his limbs weak and trembling. Zack tightened his hold, working quicker, more desperately. His time was almost up. Memories, victories, strength and arrogance—he gave them all to Cloud, dismissing each shiver of loss as it came over him. He didn't have time to be selfish right now.

Cloud crawled, each unsteady movement sending obvious agony through his limbs, and Zack couldn't help but ache for him. _I'm sorry, buddy. I'm so sorry about this. _Zack fed more of himself into the clutching hands of Jenova, allowing her to fashion a new personality—new health, new confidence, new vitality—within Cloud's broken mind, allowing her to give him a new life. Zack's life. He could feel himself growing colder, more inhuman and unfamiliar by the moment.

But he held on to some things. His memories of Cloud, of Aerith—he kept those. His parents, his name. But he allowed Soldier to slip away, allowed his very personality to shimmer and twist itself to match Cloud's fragile frame. Cloud was so shy, so insecure. He would need whatever Zack could give him, especially now, when he was so alone.

Cloud was leaning over him now, tears welling up in the gleaming blue of his eyes. "Zack," he whispered.

_No, Spike. Don't worry about me. _Zack shoved at Cloud, instilling within him a sense of urgency and purpose. _Just get the hell out of here. Live, Spike. _

Looking confused, at war with himself, Cloud rose up on his knees, his sweater slashed and faded.

_Wait! The sword, Cloud. Take the sword. _

His fingers twitching involuntarily, Cloud leaned over Zack, seizing the hilt of the sword that lay on the sere grass at the cliff's edge. His fingers clutching the red leather, he rose to his feet, not looking down at the body beneath him.

Zack suppressed a wince. He wasn't forgotten, only absorbed. _Now go! _He shoved at Cloud, sending the boy into a stumbling run even as the tattered remains of his self pulled apart, the threads absolving into a green mist that faded upward into the sky. He caught a last glimpse of Cloud's eyes—bleak and bleeding—as he drifted away to join all the others who had come before him. _Don't worry, Cloud. You'll make your own way. You'll find yourself again one day. _

_And so will I. _


End file.
